


Untitled

by caelei



Category: Original Work, not a fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:09:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelei/pseuds/caelei





	1. six

They were at the park. Max was on the swing set, pumping higher and higher. His sister, Maggie, who was only three and didn't really know anything, was getting too close. "Maggie," Max heard his mom call over, from the bench over at the side, "Careful Maggie. Max, don't you kick her."

"I wasn't going to kick her," Max said, though now that he thought about it, he might like to know what would happen if he accidentally kicked her as he was swinging forward. Of course, only if it was an accident, but he wondered if she'd cry, and for how long, since she was such a crybaby. These were thoughts that would probably get him in trouble, though, so he decided maybe it was time to stop swinging before an accident happened and he actually did get in trouble.

"Here Maggie," he said, dragging his feet in the chips below, digging them down hard to stop the swing and expose the dark dirt underneath. "Here Maggie, you try to swing. I'm gonna slide."

"I'm gonna slide!" Maggie said, as he knew she would, and they raced over to the wooden play set, Maggie screaming all the way. Of course Max got there first. This was because he was bigger and faster and Maggie was little and still couldn't hardly run without tripping on her feet, and that was even when her shoelaces were perfectly tied and double-knotted to stay. Max's own laces were coming free, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't fall on his shoelaces because he was big.

"Watch me go, Maggie! No, Maggie, I'm first." His little sister was always in the way. Most the time he didn't mind because his momma had told him to be nice and if he wasn't nice then Momma would tell Daddy and then Max would have to sit in his room. So he let Maggie just do what Maggie wanted. But when it came to being first, Max had to be that, and no matter if Maggie cried about it. Because Max was bigger and it was him who should do things first, and that meant going down the slide without Maggie hugging to his back, just this once. "Maggie, off!"

"No! I'm going too!" she squealed, but he was already sitting down and he pushed off before she could grab onto him properly. She wailed as he went sliding down, and wailed louder when he said, "Now you can go, come on. Next time we'll go together."

"I wanted to go together first!"

"Do you want to try it now?"

"No!"

"Fine, then you go and I'll go again."

"No!"

"Fine, then I'll just go again and you can sit there and cry like a baby."

"No!" She did look like she was going to cry. Her nose was red and her lip was sticking out. Mom called that her boo-boo face. "Max, let's go together."

"Then let's do it." Max clambered up the little wooden ladder, his shoe laces flopping, one of them sticking under his other foot and making it slip. He climbed up fast the rest of the way. "And stop pouting at me," he said, once he got to the top of the slide. 

"I'm not pouting," Maggie whined, but she sat like she was supposed to when Max told her, and remembered not to scream in his ear as they went sliding down. She screamed into his back instead, but at least this time it wasn't his ear.

"Again," she said, even before they got to the bottom, and both of them scrambled off the end so they could race again to the top. Max knew he was going to win. Not only was he bigger and faster but he could climb the side ladder, and Maggie was too scared to climb it since besides being a crybaby she was also a scaredy-cat, and so she had to go to the steps all the way around at the back. But just as Max was rushing off to beat her to the top, his foot tugged by its laces and he fell. Maggie went squealing past him, and when he scrabbled to get back up his foot caught again and he tripped right back down to the chips. He licked dirt off his lip from when he'd fallen and rolled onto his back. Maggie was standing at the top of the slide, yelling at him that she'd beat him. He ignored her. It didn't even count since his shoe lace was untied. He sat forward to reach it.

Of course, Maggie had already switched to crying that she wanted to slide again right now and he should just hurry up. He looked over; she had her boo-boo face on, and it looked like she was getting ready to stamp her foot. "Just wait Maggie!" he called. But Max was having trouble with the laces. It was chilly out, and his gloves were too slippery to grab the strings right. They kept fumbling between his fingers when he tried to cross them over one another. "Just wait!" he said again, mad when she wouldn't stop crying at him. "Or go by yourself!"

"No!" she screamed. But Max didn't pay attention. All of a sudden he was too busy looking at the pair of legs that had walked up, right in front of him.

The man standing before him was probably the tallest, most giant guy Max had ever seen. Way taller than Daddy. His legs went up and up and up. Max had to crane his head back to try and see the man's face.

That was before he knelt down, right beside him, and Max realized it wasn't a man, not really. It was a boy, like a teenager who would go to high school. He had a strange busted nose and he looked Max right in the eyes, something an older kid had never done before because Max didn't know any kids like that, not even at church. The boy reached out his hands --he had incredibly big hands with long skinny fingers-- and Max automatically brought his back out of the way. "I'll help you with that," the boy said, and Max just stared at him as he slowly started to tie Max's shoe.

"You're Maxwell Grey, aren't you?" the boy asked, and Max shut his mouth, which had fallen open, and nodded. "I thought so," the boy said, concentrating on the shoe. He really was taking forever to tie it. Max could have tied it faster if he had his gloves off.

"Who are you?" Max asked, but the boy only smiled and shrugged. Max got a weird feeling. He started to pull his foot away.

"Don't," the boy said, and grabbed Max's foot.

This was shocking. It was so unexpected that Max sat still and didn't do anything, just stared. At once the boy looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said, but didn't let go, and finished tying Max's shoe, still being very careful about it.

As soon as he finished, Max scurried away from him, and this time the boy let him. He jumped to his feet and the boy stood, towering over him. His shadow fell across Max's face so he didn't have to squint against the pale morning sun.

"I just wanted you to be safe," the strange boy said, and Max turned and ran away from him, back to the real safety of the play set where Maggie was standing and staring. "Make sure to tie your shoes twice next time!" the boy called, then ducked his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He started to walk away, fast, almost running, and he didn't look back. Max stayed by the slide with Maggie standing close next to him, and together they stood and watched until the boy was gone.

"What was that?" Maggie asked wonderingly. She turned to look up at Max's face. Max still felt weird, as if something had happened, but he didn't know what. Nothing had happened, really. Mom hadn't even said anything about it, and she must have been watching from over at the bench. Somehow, that made him feel better. He shrugged.

"Race you to the top?" he asked instead, and even before he stopped asking he shoved past her to get a head start.

"No fair!" Maggie screamed, and everything went back to normal when she whined at him after he'd won. By the time Mom called them over to walk back home --Maggie still got to ride in the baby stroller, which just wasn't fair but there was no point in complaining about it-- Max had forgotten completely about the strange tall boy. He didn't think of him again.


	2. eight

Saturdays were when they went to the laundromat. They also did other things, like eat brunch (which was really just a late breakfast) at Tom's Diner and go shopping for groceries, up and down all the aisles getting the cereal and cleaning supplies and stuff like that. But the most important thing was that they went to the laundromat.

It was most important because Max hated hated hated the laundromat.

He thought there was not a single thing he liked about it, about that darn place. He didn't like the sound of the spinning machines or the way they hummed. He didn't like when people exchanged quarters (though he had liked that the first time round, but it got so boring after the second and third and fourth time). He didn't like when Mom asked him to put the quarters in the machine like it was something fun to do; he always made Maggie do it instead, though of course she actually thought it was fun because she was five and still dumb enough to believe anything Mom or Dad said. He especially didn't like the wait, hours and hours, and he didn't like Mom telling them not to run around since the other people would give them dirty looks if they were too loud. He didn't like that they weren't allowed to bring toys for the same reason (too loud, she said), and that Mom had had the great (not great) idea of Max taking a book to read.

If there was one thing Max hated more than the laundromat, it was reading. And if there was one thing Max hated even more than reading, which was barely even possible, it was reading to Maggie.

That was what Mom thought the laundromat was for, apparently, well besides doing laundry (since their washer machine still made that bad clunking noise and Mom and Dad hadn't gotten anyone to fix it yet). She thought it was for reading. This was because most everybody else in the laundromat seemed to think it was for reading, like some sort of weird other library but with clothes instead of books: everybody at the laundromat always seemed to read. Mom brought a book, Dad brought a book, and Mom made Max bring a book so he and Maggie could sit quiet in the corner and read.

Reading with Maggie was the absolute worst. She always wanted pictures, like any of the books he had would have pictures in them: he was in the third grade, of course not, he wouldn't have any baby books! But that was what Maggie wanted, baby books. She also wanted to try and help him read, or read it herself, though she could barely even read anything at all. Most the time she just sat there leaning on him with her fingers pointing at the lines and going, "the... the... a... a... and..." missing all the important words. And so then Max would have to wait until she was finished (because if he didn't give her a good turn she would start a fit, and then the people would give dirty looks, and then Max would get in trouble), and then he'd have to go back and actually read it for real.

Because of this, Max didn't even like the books now that he'd liked before, and there hadn't even been that many before. He had read and reread and waited and went over the very first page of Harry Potter so many times that he was certain he could just say it without looking at the words. Sometimes he thought that the only fun left in reading might be throwing the book and making Maggie fetch it, and then throwing it again. Or maybe sneaking it in one of the machines and seeing its pages go all soggy and bad. He'd like that. Then he wouldn't have to read, and Mom wouldn't even make him since she'd be scared he'd ruin another book the same way. Though now that he was thinking about it, that was actually a pretty good plan. Except for the getting in trouble he would do.

If there was anything good about going to the laundromat, it was the candy bar. Every week when they went out on Saturday there was the diner, the store, and the laundromat, and at the laundromat was the vending machine. And in the vending machine was candy. And if Max did good and didn't throw any books or hide them in unlikely (wet) places and kept Maggie quiet and happy enough, then he got a dollar. And he got to go to outside (by himself, even!) to the vending machine to get candy with that dollar.

This wasn't as great as it might have been, since Maggie also got a dollar to spend, but at least she didn't get to go by herself since she was still too little, practically a baby still. So Dad always went out with her. Since Dad also got a dollar, they always came back with two bags of Skittles. Skittles were Dad's candy bar and he got them every week. Maggie got Skittles too, but mainly only because Dad got them. So after they got their two bags of Skittles Maggie and Dad would sit in the corner and spill them out over the table (Mom didn't care when Dad and Maggie got dirty looks, only when Max was there) and would play little games with them and trade them. And so that was what they did with their dollars.

Max always waited. He waited until he could go by himself, and then he went. Most times he got something different, though Milky Way was his favorite. He just liked getting different things; if he didn't like it he could always go and get another dollar from Dad when Mom wasn't looking, and try for something else.

* * *

 

 

Max was standing outside of the laundromat. He could hear Dad and Maggie inside. They never had to be quiet. Just him. But then he supposed Mom couldn't yell at Dad to be quiet like she could at Max.

The vending machine stood in front of him. He had his nose and his hands pressed to the glass. Mostly he just liked to leave marks there; the marks were always gone the next week. Also it made it easier to see all the stuff that he could get.

There were some candies that cost more than a dollar, but Mom never let him have more than one. Once he had tried pestering her about it but all she had said was that he should save his money up so he could have two dollars next week. But of course he wasn't going to do that. Why would he buy one fancy candy in two weeks when he could have more than one? That just didn't make any sense, but Mom hadn't cared, and even Dad had gone along with her. Then again, Dad went along with most anything Mom said, as long as Mom was looking.

So Max focused on the cheap stuff. He had gone through all the mints. Most of the chocolate bars, since he liked chocolate more than anything. He'd had the hard candy life savers last week, but that had been a bust. He didn't like getting candies that had more than one piece in them, since Maggie always wanted to trade some so she could try his stuff, and Mom always made him. He hated Skittles. That was another thing he hated about the laundromat. Trading for Skittles. Yuck.

Out here with nobody but the vending machine, Max always took his time. Being outside was better than being in there. He stood and leaned against the glass for a while, then did the usual, feeling in the slot at the bottom in case someone left a quarter (they never had, but he always looked), leaning a little more, then going round the front of the shop and looking for spare change someone might've dropped on the ground. He was just pushing his head and shoulders against the bottom of the machine, with his arm reached out underneath scrabbling for any coins, when he felt someone toe him in the ribs. "What do you want?" he said as he sat up straight to look at whoever had done it, thinking it was Dad or Mom or Maggie come to tell him he was taking too long, which they always did. But it wasn't. It was a stranger. Max immediately scrambled to his feet.

The stranger was tall and thin, probably the tallest and thinnest person he'd ever seen not on tv. He had short dark hair and the same sort of color dark eyes, and his nose was squashed like someone had punched him right in the face. He was smiling at Max, and in his hand was a fiver. He held it out.

"This yours?" the stranger said, and Max shook his head at him. "It's not?" The stranger waved the fiver at Max, like maybe that would help him recognize it.

"Nah," Max said, then corrected, since his mom hated when he said the word nah. "I mean, no, no it's not." He found he had pressed himself to the brick of the laundromat in surprise and peeled himself off at once, trying to seem cool about it. The stranger stared down at him, so tall Max had to tilt his head far far back to talk to him.

"You sure?" the stranger asked.

"Yes," Max said.

"Oh. It's just that I noticed you looking for something over here. I was walking down a ways and saw you reaching under and thought maybe you'd lost this bill. Saw it in the gutter, just over there. Wind must've blown it over and it got stuck. You think?"

"Maybe," Max said, shrugging. "I mean, it could happen."

"So you're sure it's not yours? You're absolutely sure?"

"Yeah," Max said. He shrugged again, then pointed through the big glass window at the front of the laundromat. "My mom in there only gives me one dollar," he explained, then suddenly snapped his mouth shut, feeling stupid for some reason, like a dumb little kid. The stranger was a big kid, and talking about his mom to him made Max feel like he was just Maggie's age. He looked down and scuffed his foot. "But I mean, maybe someone else around here lost it." He made a show of looking around, like someone else might be about. There was no one, but he still looked.

The stranger looked with him. "That's possible, you think?" He folded the fiver in half, sat it careful in his palm. "Wanna look around a bit, then? Maybe we'll find them. Can't believe someone dropped it."

"I don't see anyone," Max said, doubtful. The stranger looked down on him, and again he felt stupid, though he didn't know why. Maybe just because of how hard the guy looked at him. He had a real hard stare with those dark dark eyes in his white face, right above that punched-in nose. "But maybe they're around the corner?" he asked, blurting out as the idea came to him.

"You think?" the stranger asked. He looked thoughtful, then turned and walked off, towards the side of the building. Max remained where he was. "Wait, you coming?" the stranger asked, once he'd noticed Max hadn't budged.

"My mom..." Max started. He felt heat rising to his face for some reason, looked down again. He let the words trail off.

"Well, if you don't think you can do it," the stranger said, then shook his head. "No, sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant if you don't feel good doing it, you shouldn't. You're probably right, you should listen to your mom."

"But you think maybe on the other side of the building?" Max asked. He hesitated. "Like, it's not that far. I could do that. It's not far at all, really. I mean, isn't the right thing just to help find who lost it? My mom would probably let me."

The stranger looked back at him, now frowning. "I think you should stay just where you are." He nodded his head, and turned and strode away. His legs were very very long. They took him away, and fast.

Max watched him go, shifting from foot to foot. He looked at the big front window of the laundromat, then at the vending machine, then up again where the stranger had gone. But that was it, he really was gone, vanished around the side of the building where Max couldn't see. Something jumped up in Max's chest and he found himself running after the guy. "Hey wait, wait up!" He was oddly breathless, he didn't know why. His heart was beating in his chest. He ran faster, almost panicked, and whipped around the corner. He slammed into something hard, a person, and nearly fell back.

A hand grasped him by the front of the shirt, and he looked up, gaping at the stranger, who was looking down at him with concern. Max quickly got his feet under him, and the guy let go. He smoothed the front of his shirt, taking a step back.

"I thought you were going to stay behind," the stranger said.

"Nah. I mean, no." Max was breathing hard. He huffed out a breath and slid his hand over his shirt again. "I mean, I quick asked my mom and she said it was okay so here I am." He didn't know why he lied, he just did. And for a second he thought the stranger knew. But then the guy smiled, and Max relaxed.

"Ah, okay then. Well, let's go."

"So what are we looking for?" Max asked, hurrying to keep up as the stranger sped away, down the sidewalk. It was hard to keep up. The guy really did walk very fast. Max had to jog.

The stranger shrugged, his sharp eyes looking around. "I don't know. I guess a person, right? Anybody who might've dropped this." He held up the fiver, then stopped abruptly and gave Max a weird look. Max stared back at him. "You wanna hold onto this, maybe, while we look?"

"Why?"

Another shrug. "I don't know. I just feel like you should have it." He smiled at Max's confusion. "I mean if we don't find anyone who lost it, you should keep it."

"Oh," Max said, still confused, but he felt himself reaching out to take the money. The stranger folded it carefully into his hand. Max held onto the bill tight. "But why?"

"Well, I've got my own here," the stranger said, and reached into his pocket and brought out a wallet. He opened it up and showed Max the inside, green crinkled bills stacked neatly in a row. "I don't really need it, you know, and I thought maybe you could use it more than I could. Weren't you going to get a candy bar or something? That vending machine...?" He took his wallet back, folded it, put it into its pocket.

"Yeah, I was, with that dollar Mom gave me," Max said. "But you really think I could keep this? It's... not mine."

"Well it doesn't look like it's anyone's, so why not yours?" the stranger said. He held out an arm towards the street they were on. It was empty. There was nobody, no people, no cars, no nothing. "It doesn't look like we'll find the person who lost it back here. Does it?"

"I guess not," Max said. He looked at the money in his hand, thought about the one dollar still in his own pocket, and smiled. "Hey, uh--"

"Max?" The sudden sound, his Dad calling his name, made him freeze, and then Max's heart jumped again, like it had when he thought he'd been left behind. He looked up, and the stranger nudged him back towards the laundromat.

"Go on," he said, smiling a wide crooked smile. "Don't want to get in trouble, do you?"

"No," Max said, shaking his head fervently, and he started trotting away. This time it was his turn to stop, and he turned and looked back at the guy standing on the sidewalk, who was watching after him. "Aren't you coming...? I thought maybe you'd like to split this, we could both get some candy or something. That way it would be fair."

The stranger shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Like I said, you can have it since I don't need it, and since we don't know whose it is. I gotta go this way, though, so you go on back without me."

"Well, okay," Max said, and then out of habit, "See ya."

"Yeah, maybe sometime," was the last thing he heard, then he ran back the way he'd come, around the edge of the building. 

* * *

 

 

His dad was standing just outside of the laundromat door. He looked relieved when Max came bounding around the corner, grabbed him lightly by the shoulder. "Max, what were you doing? We told you, not out of sight."

"I was looking for more money," Max said. "Then..." He stopped. There was a weird feeling in his stomach. He thought maybe he'd get yelled at for talking to that guy, and so he just made something up. Another lie. Not that he hadn't ever lied to his parents before; he did it all the time. He got in trouble for it all the time, too, but that happened sometimes. "Then I thought maybe there'd be something back around the back, you know, so I went over really quick. For just a minute," he added, at the look on his dad's face.

"Max, we said to stick right here. Your mom won't like this. She might say it's better if we all come out together."

"No, but Dad, I found this. See?" Max held up the fiver, and his Dad took it, frowning, looking down at it.

"Where did you get this?"

"I said I found it. It was in the street back there. If I hadn't gone back I wouldn't have found it."

"That doesn't mean you should have gone back there." But Dad's hand clasped his shoulder for a second, bumping their sides together, and Max knew he wasn't in trouble. He never got in trouble with Dad. "You sure it isn't anybody's?"

"I uh, saw a guy back there actually. But I asked him," Max said quickly, "and he said it wasn't his."

"And that's it?" Dad asked. While they'd talked he'd steered them back towards the vending machine. Now they peered in together, each of them leaning against the other. Max pressed his face to the glass.

"Yep. So can we spend it?" But he already knew the answer. Dad was kinda like him sometimes.

"Why not?" Max smiled and fished the other dollar out of his pocket, waving them at his dad like the stranger had at him. Six whole dollars. He could feel his mouth watering, and his eyes looked up wide at all the treats he could get this time, even those expensive ones.

"What should we get?" Max asked, and Dad smacked his hands together, rubbing them like a villain in a cartoon.

"Skittles!"

Max burst out laughing, and shoved him, complaining loudly. Dad laughed wickedly.

Three minutes later, they walked into the laundromat with five candy bars, and Maggie was so jealous she threw a fit and almost got in trouble all by herself. It was great.


	3. twelve

Halloween was okay. Getting candy was good and all, but Max had for the past few years been much more interested in the trick part of trick or treat. The problem with tricks was getting in trouble, but Max had been in trouble so many times in his life that one more time wouldn't even make a difference. Currently he was grounded from using the computer, his skateboard, and from going out of his room. Not like that had stopped him. Max had locked his door, grabbed his board from where he'd rolled it under his bed, and went out the window and down the side of the house. No problem. Mom and Dad wouldn't even notice, since they'd be out with Maggie trick or treating, and wouldn't be home until at least eight. That gave Max plenty of time, an hour or two most.

This year it was dark out thanks to the clouds and the cold, and that was the way Max liked it. What was the point of Halloween if all it was was a bunch of kiddies in the daytime? The best part was night, when the kids were still out but the older kids were too, and the adults going from their parties. Those were the times you could jump out at someone from behind a bush and catch a scream or two. Or do other things while the parents weren't looking.

Max's trick this year was simple: slipping a raw egg into every open bag he could see. Bonus points if they didn't notice. Though of course, bonus points weren't really worth anything though if nobody else was paying attention. Besides. It was funner to just toss an egg in when you knew that they'd catch ya. Then you got to laugh and run and have a nice chase, which was way more exciting than just skulking around and waiting for some kid to figure out there was smashed egg in their bag.

That was what Max was doing now: running. This time it wasn't just the kiddies coming after him. The dads were too, and they were fast, especially considering how much taller they were (at twelve he hadn't yet hit his growth spurt, standing 5'2). Max was breathless with his lungs wheezing and burning and his skateboard banging against his back as he ducked around another group, throwing an egg at their feet as he went. The couple'a dads behind him were yelling at him to stop, like that was gonna happen. Max skidded around a corner, dashed through a yard, jumped some bushes (the branches catching at his clothes, but he managed to pull through), and was grinning ear to ear as he sprinted across the street. He'd lost them.

Then, just as he was leaping over the yellow line, something hit him hard in the legs. He flipped over in the air, flew down, and the skateboard cracked into the pavement beneath him, pushing painfully into his back. Max hit the ground and bounced and tossed a bit further. He felt the scrapes and bruises decorating him along the way, and tried his best not to crack his head on the curb. He rolled to a halt next to the edge of the street, and lay dazed and hurt, blinking his eyes. He didn't try to move.

There was a high sound screaming in his head, and at first he'd thought he hadn't managed to protect it, but then he realized the noise was coming from a group of little kids just on the sidewalk, not five feet away. Parents' faces swarmed into view over him, hands reaching down, voices shushing the children and asking him if he was alright.

"Yeah, yeah," he croaked out, struggling to sit up in the flurry of complaining injuries (knees, shoulder, back, elbow, neck) and helpful (not helpful) hands. "I'm fine." He noticed the blood on his legs and the tears in his clothes and sighed.

"Oh my god, let me through, is he okay?" Somewhere close a voice was blabbering, and then a new face pushed its way to the front. Or not a face. A mask. It was a monstrous thing, a person's face but pale white, lined and stretched until it was ghastly. Blood oozed from everywhere, the eyes and ears, mouth and nose. Max leaned back further the closer the mask got. He could smell the plastic and fake blood. "Should I call 911?" the mask asked, and Max groaned. "Oh my god, are you hurt? Please tell me you're not hurt. It was an accident."

"I'm okay," Max said, louder than last time, and tried to get up. Someone pushed him, telling him to stay down, but he just scowled and wobbled to his feet. The masked guy, wow he was tall, grabbed him by the elbow, trying to steady him, and Max yelped, a spike of pain racing through his arm from the touch. The guy in the mask automatically let go, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," and Max nearly fell over. The guy grabbed him and hauled him upright, dragging Max's other arm (his good arm) around his shoulders while Max panted in his ear.

"Sit him down!" someone was saying angrily, and the masked guy made to do that, but Max shook his head and clutched to him so he couldn't let go.

"No, no," Max said. "No really, I'm fine."

"You're not fine," the mask said. "Sit down."

"I don't want to sit down," Max said. "I'm not going to sit down there in the road again. It's too far away." It would hurt to get back up again. And if he let them put him back in the road he knew there was no way he would get out of a ride in an ambulance. Not with all these concerned grown-up faces staring down at him.

"Then sit on the curb," someone said.

Max kept shaking his head. "I won't. I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

"Will you at least sit on my car, then?" the masked guy asked.

"I'll be fine in a minute. No, really, I'm feeling better already," Max protested, but his knees popped painfully when the guy let go of him again, and Max had to hold on tight to his shoulder to keep from tumbling over.

"You need to sit somewhere," the guy said. "You choose where or I will."

"Fine, fine," Max muttered. "The car." Half a dozen friendly hands ushered him to the hood of the car. There was a small dent where the thing had hit him in the knee and sent him flying. Max placed himself just to the side of it. "Okay," he said. "I'm fine now."

"You're not fine, and I'm calling the cops," a lady said, from the group at the side, and Max was nearly dizzy from shaking his head so much.

"No, don't. Really." He bent over to inspect his knees and had to fight not to topple over onto his head. The masked guy's hand was still there to steady him, and he leaned into it gratefully. He ran a hand over the tear in his pants, then sighed out a breath of relief. "See?" he said, leaning back and sticking his leg up for the others to look at. "Look. No cuts or nothing. I just got a little shaken up." He didn't show them his other knee, the one that felt like it was coming to pieces. That wouldn't help him get out of here.

"But what about the blood?" a man was asking from the side. He pointed. "There, on your pant leg. And there, on your elbow. And there, at your chin."

"Just fake blood," Max shrugged, jutting his chin out for them all to see, then holding out his elbow as he had his leg. "I mean, do you see anything?"

"No..." someone said reluctantly, a woman. "But I swear I saw something earlier. And bruises, there was a big one on your forehead."

"Is it there now?" Max asked. He put a hand to his head and swept back his bangs. A group of faces peered in at him.

"Where'd it go?" the woman asked, and she sounded scared somehow. Max tried not to grimace.

"Was probably just a shadow or something," the girl next to her said, trying to make sense of it. Both of them looked doubtful, but thankfully they didn't say anything more. 

"You're sure you're okay then?" a man asked.

Max bobbled his head. "Yeah. I just was rattled up, is all. But I'm okay now, I swear. It doesn't even really hurt." And it didn't, mostly. Not anymore. Though his one knee was still killing him.

"Still..." the man said, "Maybe you should go to the hospital. Check for broken bones or a concussion or something. And what were you doing out here like that?" he asked, glancing around. "Running into the street without looking? Where's your group? Your parents, or friends, or whoever you're with."

"I was running to catch up with them," Max said. "They went to my friend's house. It's not far, just over there. It's not like I was out here alone or anything. Just got left behind."

"Hmm," the man said, like he didn't believe him, but he didn't call Max out. "I still think you should see a doctor."

Max opened his mouth to protest, but before he could the masked guy next to him stepped forward. "That's okay. I'll take him."

"What?"

"I said I'll take him. He said his friend's house isn't that far. I'll drop him off there, explain what happened. And then if his parents think he needs to go to a doctor then I'll make sure he gets there, even if I have to take him and pay for it myself."

"You're the one who hit him," someone said dryly. "You should pay for it anyway. Can't believe you. Why were you going that fast? It's Halloween, dammit, there are tons of kids out here. You could have really hurt this boy."

"But I'm okay," Max said, hobbling from the hood of the car. The masked guy held out his arm and Max took it. "And he's right. I want to go home now. So just take me home."

"This isn't right," a woman said.

"It's okay," the masked guy said. "I promise I'll drive real careful."

"You don't know each other. I'd feel better if we took the boy home in a group."

"Actually," the masked guy said before Max could say anything himself. "We sorta do know each other." He reached up and pulled the mask off. Max squinted up at him: shortish dark hair curling at the edges and damp with sweat, a long pale face, dark dark eyes, and a nose that caught his attention.

"Uh, yeah," Max said, since everybody was staring at him, waiting for a reaction. "That's right, you're, uh--"

"I go to the high school. We met during an after school program once," the guy finished. "I helped you with your batting."

Of course it was a lie, at least partially. Max hadn't ever gone to the after school program, and he didn't participate in team sports like baseball. And yet... the guy did look familiar somehow. He tried to remember him, tried to figure out who he was, but couldn't. Probably the first half then had been true. Max had probably seen him hanging around or walking home after school got out, since the high school and middle school were so close together. "Oh yeah," Max said. "I remember. Yeah, I'll go with you."

"But--" a lady called out, sounding uncertain.

"It's okay, I'm okay," Max said, and let the guy help him into the passenger's seat of the car before everyone could start arguing again. 

* * *

 

 

Max fiddled with his skateboard on the drive home, trying to figure out if if had been broken during the fall. One of the wheels felt a little loose. Too bad. He'd have to wait forever to get it fixed or his parents would be suspicious.

"Take a left here," he said, and the guy carefully turned the corner. Max looked over at him, curious. "So where do I really know you from?"

"Dunno," the guy said, not taking his eyes off the road. "But you're sure you're okay? I really could take you to the hospital if you think you needed it. We could call your parents from there."

"No, I'm fine," Max said. He peered out the window, then pointed. "It's right there, that white one with the greenish roof and the light on. You see it?"

"I see it," the guy said, and pulled up out front. "Before you get out, just one more question, okay?"

"What is it?" Max asked, pausing with his hand on the door.

"What's that stuff all over your back? It's in your hair, too."

Max flicked a hand over the back of his head, and felt something slimy. He held the slime up in the light, yellowish with little white bits, and groaned. "Eggs," he said. "Smashed eggs from my backpack. Ugh."

"Eggs, heh. Thank god. I couldn't see what it was. I was worried it was blood or guts or something." The guy smiled a crooked smile at him, and Max grinned back, thanked him for the ride, and got out. The window rolled down. "You sure you don't want me to walk you to the door? You'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay," Max said, and waved as the guy drove off.

* * *

 

 

Mom, Dad, and Maggie weren't home yet, and good thing. The guy had dropped him off at the front of the house. The stairs weren't far from the front door, but Max would have had to go past the living room to get to them, and Mom and Dad or someone would have probably been in there to catch him. As it was, the house was empty except for Mikey, their dog. And Mikey didn't care if Max had been out, and Mikey wouldn't yell at him for ripping and dirtying his clothes. Max patted the dog on the head (getting a lick and a happy tail wag in return) before he climbed carefully up the stairs. His one leg still hurt, his knee, which meant probably something big was wrong with it, but he didn't really care that much, and it wasn't worth getting in trouble over. He just made sure not to trip on the stairs and fall down and hurt himself some more in the process.

Max went to his room, gathered up some new clothes, stopped for a towel in the hallway closet, then went into the bathroom. Then he stripped down and started the shower. He had to sit to scrub the egg out of his hair because it took forever and he couldn't stand that long. His knee was all swollen up and awful looking, all red and purple and black and gross. Poking at it hurt, a lot. What a bummer. No doubt his mom would notice this (and the ripped and torn jacket and jeans). Then he'd be in even more trouble.

Max sighed, and rinsed and toweled off, then dragged himself into his pajamas. He washed the egg off his clothes as best he could, then wrung them out, wrapped them in his towel, and limped to his room. There, he hid both the skateboard and the clothes under his bed, wedged in the far back corner. The clothes would stay there until they'd dried enough to put them in the laundry, and hopefully Mom wouldn't notice their sorry state. Yeah right. She noticed everything.

After that, Max collapsed into his bed. He made sure his blankets covered his knee, and kept it straight since it didn't hurt as much when it was straight, and hoped that it would be fixed by morning. Max had always been a fast healer, after all. That woman who'd thought she'd seen the bruise on his forehead had probably been right, and she'd known it, too: the bruise had likely been there, and went away just like that, before her very eyes. So at least maybe his knee would heal enough that he wouldn't have to limp so bad. If he could hide the limp when he was at home, then he might be able to hide it all from Mom. It was his only chance.


End file.
